


Mutually Assured Embarrassment

by Mareepysheepy



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), General discomfort on everyone’s parts, M/M, Mentions of Kissing, Parents are embarrassing, Teenagers, but then so are teenage boys, craig and tweek are definitely still dating, thomas tucker is a sensible adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12577268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareepysheepy/pseuds/Mareepysheepy
Summary: Craig believed that very little phased him, and even less still embarrassed him.Until he and his dad needed to have a talk that neither of them wanted to have.





	Mutually Assured Embarrassment

Craig stares mournfully at the door ahead of him. His front door to be precise, where not a minute earlier Tweek all but darted out of view with a distracted wave and a ‘ _ngggh_ ’ that sounded even more strained than his usual ‘ _nggghs_ ’.

He really doesn’t want to turn around. Really, _really_ doesn’t want to. He prizes himself on not giving any fucks, but he’s still a kid and _any_ kid would be rattled in his situation. Even Craig Tucker.

“So…” his dad says after the silence has grown prominent and drawn-out enough to be awkward. There is so much meaning behind the word. It makes Craig grimace, all hopes that his father would just go upstairs and do the decent thing dying inside him.

Right now the door looks like the most attractive option available to him. Craig isn’t above retreating when he’s not fancying his odds. Usually because it’s too much effort to get involved. This time, however, it's the cringey forced casualness in his father’s tone.

But quick calculations suggest that things will get worse if he flies out the front door and kills time for the next few hours. His dad will just keep that so sitting on the tip of his tongue. Craig will see it in his eyes when he walks back in, see it in the fidget over dinner, or even in the purposeful sit on the edge of his bed after he’s tucked himself in. Oh God. It’s too fucking awkward to think about. Even more awkward than the fact that he’s staring at the front door like he’s a brain-dead moron.

Craig digs deep, calling on memories of Peru, and fangirls, and of Hellbeasts in the Police station. They remind him that very little rattles him. This is nothing, God fucking damn it. If he can _associate_ with South Park’s biggest quartet of dickheads, he can face his father.

His father, who has just sucked air between his teeth with a faint ‘ _hsss_ ’. Craig feels his stomach drop at the sound and turns around before his father can begin his first, clumsy steps into conversation like a baby giraffe stepping into a minefield.

“Dad…” he says. His voice is flat, giving away nothing. His eyes, however, implore his father. ‘ _Do we really have to do this?’_ He asks silently. He thinks he does anyway because his dad is shooting back an expression that looks like ‘ _do you think I want to?_ ’

“Craig,” his dad replies.

For a moment Craig thinks that that’s it. A conversation where they say each other’s names, silently agree that they don’t want to talk about this, and take the path of least effort.

His hopes are quickly quashed. His dad seems to want to be a good dad tonight. God damn it.

“So…” His dad says. Again with the so. He looks constipated and Craig would find it amusing if he wasn’t feeling like he wanted to take a shit himself.

“Dad, it’s not what you think,” Craig says. It’s unconvincing. Not necessarily because it’s a cliche thing to say, but it’s also clearly bullshit. Craig is a shitty actor. Even with this dreaded talk on the line, he can’t even inject enough emphasis into his voice to even sound like he’s hotly denying anything.

“So you weren’t making out with Tweek on our sofa.” It’s not a question. It doesn’t need to be. Craig drew the short straw when they were handing out parents, and ended up with two of the saner, more sensible adults in South Park.

“Fine,” Craig holds his hands up. “It’s exactly what you think. You’ve stated it aloud. Is the conversation over now?”

His dad gives him a slightly haunted look. He looks like a man marked for death. The sinking feeling in Craig’s stomach drops to his feet. The conversation isn’t over. _Why_ isn’t the conversation over?

This is really shitty. Minutes ago he was delving into some serious tongue-on-tongue action with Tweek. They’d torn themselves apart at the sound of the front door opening and thrown themselves to opposite ends of the sofa. Thomas Tucker had paused in the open doorway, eying them in a mixture of surprise and faint curiosity. The curiosity had blossomed rapidly into realisation as Tweek, red-faced and jittery enough to look like he was having a seizure garbled something and ran through the front door. Craig had felt his own face burning and since he didn’t _do_ blushing, it cemented his fate like a traitorous M.O.

“Son…” his dad tries again and, oh no, it’s the _understanding dad_ voice. Craig knows that this is getting worse. Braces himself. “It’s natural, okay? He’s your boyfriend and it’s only normal that you’d want to… explore those feelings.”

“Oh God,” says Craig.

“There’s a lot of peer pressure and hormones, and it all gets very confusing because there’s expectations…”  
His dad forges on.

“Oh _God_ ,” Craig says again.

“You two aren’t… aren’t having sex are you?” His dad asks hesitantly.

“What the _fuck_ , Dad? We’re _thirteen_!” Craig returns, scandalised. Or at least as scandalised as he can muster the effort to be.

“I know, I know,” his dad says, raising a placating hand. “But you kids have access to so much information these days, and then there’s porn and—”

Oh Jesus. His dad is not going to try and talk about _porn_ is he? As if this conversation couldn’t get any more embarrassing. And embarrassment is not a feeling that Craig is used to. He likes not giving a fuck and doesn’t get why he feels like he could die right now. It’s extremely uncomfortable. He supposes maybe it's a side effect of teenagehood, or maybe just every parent's inherent ability to be a cringey pain in the ass.

“Dad,” he says slowly, purposefully. It comes across like he’s trying to make an impact with his words, but in reality, he’s struggling against grinding his back teeth together. “We are not going to have sex at thirteen. That was literally our first time ever making out!” Not a lie, per se. They’d tried tongue kissing when they were eleven but had, at the time, found it gross. It was only with the considerable life experience gained over two years, standing now at the cusp of adulthood that they’d thought to try again (to great success this time, Craig thinks. He hopes Tweek agrees.)

“Oh,” his dad said. Craig hopes that it’s over now, but his dad’s expression says otherwise. He still looks like he wants to be very far from here, but less like he’s going to bring up his lunch in the process.

“Well,” his dad starts again after a pause. “How... was it?” The words are followed by a cringe. He probably didn’t mean to say that. Weirdo.

“Awesome,” Craig says, voice flat. “Until you came home, anyway.”

His dad frowns at him, puffing up slightly in indignation. “This is my house. I’ll come in any time that I want to come in!”

Craig says nothing, choosing the flip him off instead. His dad returns the gesture.

They continue to scowl at each other for a few moments, but the atmosphere seems to have shifted into something lighter. Craig can feel that his cheeks have returned to a normal colour and his boner- frightened off by his dad walking in- is faintly interested again in the fact that he was having a pretty awesome make-out session ten minutes ago.

“Son…” his dad sighs, but this time there’s a faint smile on his lips. “You know I don’t want to talk about this, but you’re my kid. I’m sort of obligated. Besides, I don’t trust the internet and your friends are… creative,” he says diplomatically.

“Assholes,” Craig corrects.

“Yeah,” his dad nods in agreement. “Assholes.” He _does_ smile then. Craig finds himself smirking back. “Anyway, I know you and Tweek care about each other, and you’re at a point in your lives where you’re going to be curious and have a lot of hormones bouncing around—”

“Which is why we should wait before doing anything that we’re not mentally and emotionally ready for,” Craig interrupts. “Dad, I’m not motivated by my dick. We literally made out once.”

“You say that now, Son, but I still remember what it was like. Even seeing a girl in gym shorts was enough to—”

“Ew, Dad,” Craig jumps in. “Gross. Point made. I’m a guy, you’re a guy. You went through puberty. I get it. Can we stop talking now?”

His dad shakes his head, looking faintly amused. “Alright, alright. It’s funny seeing you flustered though. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Fuck you,” Craig mutters without any heat.

“Okay, fine,” his dad relents. “This is a horribly awkward conversation and I’m glad we only had to half-have it.”

Craig snorts softly at that. He thinks that it could have gone worse, but doesn't want to tempt fate just yet.

He’s drawn from his thoughts by his dad moving suddenly, stepping closer. He lays a big hand on Craig’s big shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“I know you’re sensible, Craig,” his dad says. It pulls on Craig’s heart a little because he can see that his dad means it. “I’m here to talk if you ever want to, although I’m sure you don’t.”

“...yeah, got it,” Craig mutters, trying his best not to meet his dad’s eyes.

“Just… no matter what happens take your time, stay safe, make sure there’s clear communication and please, _please_ use condoms if things do progress. There’s always some in my bedside drawer.” Craig stares at him, mouth slightly agape in horror. “Son, if I have to acknowledge that my son is growing up and probably wants to screw around, you have to acknowledge that your mom and I have sex.”

“Urgh,” Craig moans.

“And don’t take this as encouragement, young man. I’d just rather you be safe and sensible above all else.”

“Got it. Jesus Christ.”

“And you remember what PC Principle taught you about affirmative—”

“Please. Please stop,” Craig interrupts. His voice is flat again, but the slight wobble in it betrays how much he wants the earth to rise up and swallow him. In South Park that is a very real possibility.

“Right. Go and text Tweek anyway. God only knows how he’s reacting to this,” his dad says with a fond eye roll.

“I have a good idea,” Craig mutters, already pulling his phone out of his pocket and making to head towards the stairs. He pauses on the second step, a bizarre surge of okay-ness rippling through him. “Uh. Thanks… I guess.”

His dad nods in response. Craig doesn’t give him a chance to say more, darting up the stairs to the safe sanctuary of his room.

As he flops on his bed and starts navigating towards his messages, he takes a moment to consider that maybe he’s got it pretty good with his parents. They were kind of alright, really. Tweek’s parents would probably encourage them to make out in a booth over at Tweek Bros. Coffee House to shift more coffee, so he can’t complain too much.

Plus he’s got some ammo to freak his sister out now, so he counts his small blessings where he can.

—

Thomas Tucker feels equal parts pride and embarrassment as he watches his son disappear upstairs.

It had been just his dumb luck to get home before his wife had, and now he needs a drink. He feels a lot like he’d felt the time he’d walked in on his parents having sex when he was a kid, but he honestly can’t say which one is worse.

No one pays you for shit like this. If Craig thinks that it’s embarrassing being a teenager, he has no idea how bad it is being the parent of a teenager. They’re such utter turds. Why couldn’t he be a deadbeat dad who didn’t give a shit? God damn it.

Still. Craig wasn’t a bad kid, and neither was Tweek. Considering how some of the kids acted in this town, finding his son post-make out session wasn’t really such a big deal. At least he hadn’t been deported by Homeland Security, or taken up with Mongolians again. And at least he’d never had sex with his teacher.

Feeling a little less put out, Thomas grabs a beer from the fridge and takes a seat at the kitchen table. A moment later, he pulls out his phone and texts his wife about what happened. He makes sure to emphasise that he’d been an absolute fucking pro at the conversation. Probably deserved a Dad of the Year medal.

He feels a lot better about it when she texts him back moments later, suggesting that they have a good laugh about when they go out for dinner with Tweek’s parents next week. The thought makes him chuckle a bit and finally, he feels the stress leave his body.

What’s the point of having kids if you can’t laugh at them anyway?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time I was teenager and I believed that adults -especially parents- were the most embarrassing creatures on earth. 
> 
> Now I am an adult I firmly believe the opposite is true.


End file.
